


I Lost You by the Bay

by Yieldingwordslikesword



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Cheating, Drama, Famous!Eren, M/M, Making amendments, Misunderstandings, Multi, Past Rape/Non-con, RadioDJ!Jean!, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, hardly any fluff just fyi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-05 06:57:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5365655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yieldingwordslikesword/pseuds/Yieldingwordslikesword
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean is a radio DJ who airs the segment ‘Heart to Heart’, giving the people of NYC advices on their shitty relationships. Turns out he is in a malfunctioning relationship himself, and he doesn't even know until it exploded right in his face. What a joke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fleeing

**Author's Note:**

> Eren screws up and Jean turns void.

“And then she gave me the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ bullshit – “ A bleep is sounded over the expletive. Radio censorships are so dumb. Jean has heard them countless of time when his callers swear their emotions aloud in his segment ever since he started working The Drive 108FM, but these bleeps still grates on his nerves.

“Charles, I know you’re feeling emotional right now, but please remember not to swear again,” Jean reminds the caller as he distractedly curls his index finger over the black wire of his headphone. He doesn't have any issue with swear words, personally, but the radio station does so he ought to at least remind the caller or he will be getting it from his boss later. “We’re live.”

“Come on, since when is ‘bullshit’ explicit?” the voice emitting through the radio wave continues, tone a mix of exasperation and desperation. A bleep covers over the expletive instantly. Jean tries not rolls his eyes, though a small smile is curling on his lips.

“All I wanted was a real reason behind the breakdown of our relationship, not a half-ass statement that explains nothing. We were together for more than 2 years. Is that too much to ask?”

Hmm. Apparently the word ‘shit’ needs to be censored but the word ‘ass’ is not censorship worthy.

Jean maintains the sympathy in his voice as he offers his advice. “Charles, thank you for sharing your story with us. From what you have just shared, it seems like your ex-girlfriend hasn't been very responsive to you in a while.”

He takes another breathe before continuing, weighing his words.

“The flame of relationship needs the constant effort of two parties to keep it alive. I’m sorry to say this, but if she’s no longer keen in the idea of the both of you, it’ll be best for you to let her go.”

“I tried… but I just can’t forget her and us like that.”

Jean furrows his brows, his heart going out for Charles. Loving someone who just decides to stop loving you somewhere along the line has got to hurt more than having your heart ripped out from your chest. He thought of Eren and how they are still going strong even though they have been together for five years since college. Jean will never ever admit it honestly, but Eren’s love is paramount to life – it means more than anything in wondrous world, and he definitely can’t imagine what his life would like if Eren decides to leave him one day.

The mere thought of it warms Jean’s heart and he remembers he has a job to do; a caller to comfort. So he tries his best to counsel Charles on how to recover from his unfortunate love life.

“You know, Charles, you don't have to forget someone to move on. You can keep your love and memories of them in your heart while you continue to live your life as you should, all while finding someone else who would treat you well. Please remember that you deserve to be loved in return, Charles, just as everyone else. But if you don't move on, then you will not be making progress towards that.”

There is a pause as Charles takes in what Jean said. A small sigh clouds over the white noise of the wave. “Thank you, Jean,” Charles says softly, sounding like he’s caught up in his thoughts. “I think I understand now.”

Jean smiles quietly, knowing that it will not be easy for Charles, but at least he is wiling to move forward now. “You’re welcome, buddy. I wish you all the best in your life.”

With that, Charles hangs up. “Alright, the peeps from the Big Apple, let’s all wish Charles the best! That will be the last call for tonight. We’re also reaching the end of Heart to Heart – HTH. The next song is for any of you suffering from heartaches and malfunctioning relationship. ‘Let it go’ by James Bay. Know that all of you out there deserve someone who loves you with all they’ve got! Thank you tuning in to The Drive 108FM. Good night!”

 

-

 

Jean reaches home early tonight because he has opted to take a cab home. Someone very special whom Jean has been missing terribly will be there waiting already, so he just want to speeds there as fast as he can.

The time is 12:15am when Jean exits the bright yellow taxi with a box of cheesecake safely balanced on his arm. He brought them from a famous bakery in town just before his shift– the one that sells Eren’s favorite cheesecake. Although he had to stand in the line for nearly half an hour, he doesn't mind, knowing that the look on Eren’s face when he savor the his favorite dessert will make the wait worth it.

Jean enters the condo building of their shared apartment with a grin smile that he is unable to keep at bay. It’s late, but he thinks Eren might still be up. Eren has always finds it difficult to sleep at night when he spent most part of the day sitting in a plane. Tonight will be the first night Eren returns home from a six months tour across three continents. Excitement is a mass of colorful bubbles cradling in Jean’s chest.

For the past 6 months, their form of communications is only via video and phone calls. Even so, the frequency has been scarce. A long distance relationship is difficult, especially when the both of them are so busy. Eren is always swamped with strings after strings of rehearsals, fan-meets, interviews and other stuff a talented and framed rockstar would have to do while Jean is occupied with his radio DJ-ing.

Despite so, they’ve made it through the wait. To be able to see and touch Eren in his physical form again instead of seeing and touching him from Jean’s laptop screen playing his music videos or latest broadcasted interview feels almost surreal.

Opening the door to their apartment, Jean quietly slips in. Not to his surprise, the lights are still on – which means Eren is still awake – and Jean’s heart leaps at his imminent reunion with Eren. He bends forward carefully takes off his shoes, pausing when he sees a smaller pair of loafer resting neatly next to a pair of combat boots turned messily over, like they’re been kicked off in hurry. Jean knows the pair of combat boots belong to Eren, but the owner of the pair of loafer is a mystery to Jean.

Jean doesn't know Eren has brought over a guest on the first night of his return after a long 6 month. Annoyance and disappointed flares over his chest and he pouts, but he push them aside. Maybe his guest will be leaving soon and then Jean could have Eren all to himself. A soft hum escapes Jean’s lips at that thought as he pads into the living room.

Jean frowns when he finds the living room empty. He gently places the box of cheesecake on the coffee table, glancing around for any sign of Eren and his guest. If they are not in the living room, then where else would they be?  An abstract bad feeling churns in the pit of Jean stomach right then -  telling him to run, to remove himself from this situation before he gets hurt, but he doesn't.

His feet, somehow, carry him to corridor outside Eren and his bedroom as a sense of dread consumed his entire being. He doesn't have to strain his ears to hear it, really, but he wishes otherwise, wishes that it wasn't so painfully obvious. There are people having sex in their room, and Eren is one of them.

The door to the their bedroom is ajar, as if the occupants in the room were in too much of an hurry to even make sure that the door is shut, as if it's an half-ass attempt to isolate themselves in the room.

Slowly and numbly, he peaks through the crack of the door and sees Eren crouching over another man, moving wildly and moaning wantonly while the later has his eyes closed, mouth falling open, his thin arms looping around Eren with his fingers spread wide on his tan back, scratching his back in the heat of their passion. Jean hitches his breath and struggles to swallow nausea rising from his stomach.

His face burns with shame and betrayal and his hands are shaking violently on his sides. If he was a braver man, he would barge in right then and confront Eren, to scream at him, punch him his lights out and make him hurt like how Jean is hurting right now, but he not. He can’t handle facing this colossal mess face on right now. He cannot take this bull by the horn, not now, not later. He’d die.

Jean feels the edge fingernails digging against the flesh of his palm as he tries to cease the shaking. He remembers how elated he had been everytime Eren is coming home and feels like a complete idiot now. He wonders how he could have not seen a disaster of this magnitude approaching. This should not be happening. How can Eren do this, he screams in his mind as he stays rooted to the ground, staring in anguish silence as Eren throws his head back and adjusts his grips on the man before him.

Jean has always been posturing, so full of bravado, proudly displaying his devil-may-care attitude, but they are nothing but a front, a farce to cover his fragile so-prone-to-being-hurt-and-crashed-heart.

Eren know this, he knows this. They have been lovers for five years, friends for even longer than that. They went to middle school, high school, and university together.

Jean has trusted him with all of his heart, but he always know that Eren will be careless with it somehow, in one way or another. But it’s okay, it was okay, because Jean knows Eren will not hurt his heart intentionally.

He has expected Eren to crash him and tear him down with a single look or gesture over silly things and argument, but not like this. Never like this.

Eren has utterly destroyed him, and Jean doesn't know if he’ll ever be okay again.

Quietly as he enters, he backs slowly away and exits their apartment, trying to drown out the sound of moans and exclamations of pleasure from the room that is no longer Eren and his, the box of cheesecake left forgotten on the coffee table.

He flees.

 

-

 

Jean doesn't shed a tear until he checks into a dingy hotel with a pale face and a pair of shaky, cold hands.

Then it’s full blown ugly crying from there. It was muffled as first, he yells and cries into the white pillow and when it gets too much, he just crumbles and breaks apart loudly – eyes squeezing tightly, face scrunched with snots dripping miserably down his nose, and lips twisting as sobs chokes at his throat.

Hundreds of thoughts and memories shuffles through Jean’s mind, each of them breaking apart and cracked, each of his thoughts getting more and more dark and depreciating. Maybe Jean just isn’t enough, he thinks viciously as he roughly wipes a hand on his face. Maybe Eren and Jean hasn't been alright in a while in between their on and off relationship in the last five years but Jean is just too blind to see. Their last break up may be past a year, but Eren and Jean had been spending half of it apart in different countries on different timezones.

God. They might as well have broken up. Jean is just too stupid to see it, stupidly thinking that Eren – the beautiful, desirable, and irresistible – would actually wait for him and be happy to see him again. How thick can he get?

He wonders if it has always been like this – if Eren has been cheating on Jean everytime Jean isn’t around. He must have plenty of time and privacy to do it when he’s on tour, Jean thinks bitterly as he draws a bunches of tissues from a box of Klennex he grabbed off the bed side table, and covers his face with them. Was that guy someone Eren’s dating, or does Eren finds someone new everywhere he goes to satisfy him when Jean couldn't, or doesn't want to?

His treacherous mind rewinds back to when he was standing outside their bedroom hours ago, timidly watching how intimate Eren and the guy were like he was the guilty one. Immediately, he chokes, and then breathes hard and loud as he struggles to regains his breath. He squeezes his eyes even tighter. It feels he's drowning there will be no one there to save him. Deep in his mind, Jean knows that Eren is not like him.

Eren is not as sentimental and literal like him. Eren is his first crush, first love, his first everything, and Jean knows Eren is not like that. Jean can only give his heart to one person, that’s all he has. There is no capacity in his heart for anyone else after that – it’s concrete and definite, like tattoo ink on skin. Eren, however, is not like that– he can fall in and out of love with anyone easily – that is why Jean had let Eren choose.

Just because Eren had chosen to stay with Jean when he gave him a choice years ago: ‘Did he want Jean, or not?’ but it doesn't mean it stands true now. Maybe Eren didn't even mean to choose Jean. He just stayed with Jean because he doesn't want want to hurt Jean’s, who is secretly oh-so-fragile. It’s demeaning and it’s terrible, but Jean knows it’s true. If Eren had not chose to stay with him then, Jean would have fallen apart.

Still, he would have gotten over it, it may take a while, but he would have gotten over Eren. It hurts more, to be betrayed in such a way then to be left behind. What is he suppose to do now when they have dragged this pathetic sham of a relationship for five years. What is Jean suppose to do now?

Jean really thought they were fine, he really did. He had grown accustomed to the idea of Eren growing to love him too, but “I don't want to hurt you” is never the same as “I love you.” Did Eren even love him? The idea that Eren has never even loved him has Jean biting already parched lips and quivering with a new wave of sob.

He wails aloud until he exhausts himself, even then tears are still falling from his eyes, sliding messily down his puffy, and sore cheeks. He feels light headed and calm, despite the turmoil wheeling back and forth in his mind’s eyes.

He shuts his eyes and breathes.

 

-

 

He returns to their apartment the following afternoon.

Eren was sitting on the sleek, leathered sofa he loved so much with his feet propped up the coffee table when Jean enters apartment.

“Jean!” Eren exclaims when he spots Jean by the doorway.

He sounds happy, and Jean does not have the courage to response to that enthusiasm after what he witnessed last night, so he mumbled a greeting and bends down to take off his shoes. His mind instantly notes that the pair of loafers are gone, and Eren’s boots are neatly placed on the top shelf of the shoe rack. When Jean stands up next, Eren has already made his way to him.

“Where were you?” Eren asks, his green eyes shining bright. Jean looks away and swallows against his dry throat. “You weren’t home the entire night and you didn't pick up your phone when I called either. I was worried that something might have happened to you.”

Jean manages a dry laugh that sounds forced. “Don't be silly, what could possibly have happened?”

“Yeah, but I’m still concerned. Where were you, then?”

Jean presses his lips together and walks towards the living room and drops his bag by the foot of the sofa.

“I.. something came up at work. I had to settle it.”

Eren is right behind Jean when he turns around.

“You’re an airwave DJ. Don't you knock off after your shift ends at 1am?”

Jean looks directly at Eren’s eyes, trying to pick up something that indicates his guilt, but Eren merely looks curious. Was Eren ever such a good actor?

“The HTH segment was pushed to earlier slots weeks ago. It ends at 11.45pm now.”

At that, Eren’s eyes widens by a fraction. Jean could see him calculating the time Jean would have arrived home if he had left the studio at 11.45pm.

“Well…” Eren trails off and begins again, more sure of himself this time. “That’s great,” he smiles, “You usually take an hour to reach home, so it’s good that you have more time to rest now that you can come home earlier.”

“Yeah,” Jean says weakly, and all he can think is how he would never have caught Eren if the schedule for HTH wasn't pushed forward. He doesn't know if he should be glad or curse himself for not sharing this information with Eren while he was still on tour.

The pair lock gaze with each other for a few moments, and when Jean is about to open his mouth, Eren interrupts him.

“So how have you been? It’s been a long 6 months since I last saw your pretty face,” Eren grins a cocky smile, tilting his head forward so he can send a smoky, smothering look to Jean.

Very calmly, Jean breathes through his nose, and angles his chin. “Do you wanna fuck now?” Eren pauses for a tiny moment and looks surprised. “Well?” Jean prods, feeling his heart thundering through his chest while maintaining his expression of nonchalance.

“Sorry, I was just caught off guard,” Eren quickly says, running a hand through his dark tresses and grins like shark.

“It’s just you’re not usually the one who suggests it.”

“Or I’m never the one to suggest it,” Jean simply adds and step into Eren’s personal bubble. It’s that why you cheated on me, Jean wants to ask, but holds his tongue. If Eren’s cheating on him because he hasn't been putting out enough, then Jean would fix that. At least it means Eren still loves him.

“So, are we gonna?” He whispers against Eren’s lips with half-lidded eyes. Eren arms’ come around him in an instant, holding him tight and pressing proper kisses on Jean’s lips, which in no time turns into an open-mouth kiss. Jean reaches out to grip Eren by the fabric of his t-shirt while Eren slides one palm over to cup the side of Jean’s face, another hand slipping under Jean’ shirt to and caress Jean’s bare skin, sending shivers to his spine. Being so close to Eren feels good, he feels warm and he feels like home.

Jean has wanted to be in his embrace so much he can almost forgot what he saw the night before. Maybe this would work out, as long as Jean keeps doing this, Eren doesn't have to know what he saw. They can pretend that it never happened. Except that Eren tastes like cheesecake and Jean snaps his eyes open as soon as it registers.

As if been electrocuted, Jean pushes Eren away with a force he didn't know he has. Eren stumbles a few steps, and he would have fell on his ass if he didn't had the support of a wall.

“What the fuck, Jean?”

“You taste like cheesecake,” Jean merely says, as if it is an enough explanation. He left the cake on the table before he ran out. If Eren knows the cake wasn't there before, then there is no way he doesn't know that Jean had came back last night.

“Yeah,” Eren replies just as softly, “I just had some. It was on the table when I came back. I know you brought it for me.”

“Was it really there when you came back?” At this, Eren pauses for the second time.

“I didn't notice,” he finally says. “I went to our room the moment I came back, but it was there when I came out.”

There it is – Jean takes in a deep breath, looking at anywhere but Eren – he can either lie or vomit out the truth and ruin what little moments they had left.

“Jean?” Eren says, snapping Jean out of his reverie. He looks wary now. Jean snorts and closes his eye for a moment. 

“Of course you went straight to the bedroom the moment you came back,” he mutters - it was out of his month before he knows it - as a quiet confrontation he doesn't want to have.

“I was tired,” comes Eren's dumb response. Gosh, he can’t even be bothered to be creative in his lie.

“I bet you’re not tired enough to fuck someone else though.”

Eren has no response for that and his still expression in his face does not change. He reaches out to touch Jean on the shoulder. “What are –“

“I saw it,” Jean quietly says and Eren’s hands freeze in mid-air. Eren stays silent as he stares right at Jean.

“Aren’t you going to play dumb? Ask me what I saw?” Jean pushes spitefully. The beat of his heart is thumping like mad, and he keeps his breathing under control for fear of passing out. “It’s not a one-time slip up, is it?”

“No,” Eren admits, his gaze never once wavered. Jean wonders how Eren can be so cruel, admitting that he has cheated on Jean while looking straight at him, as if he doesn't even feel guilty about it.

“Why?” Jean can bite back a whimper as his vision stars blurring.

Eren sighs loudly and looks away pointedly. Jean can see he’s getting irritated.

“Is it because I don't put out enough?”

Eren’s furrows his brows and looks back at Jean, sea-green ices piercing right through Jean’s heart.

“I love you so much,” Jean whispers when Eren says nothing to defend himself from Jean's accusation.

“Is it?” Eren looks conflicted, but he laughs shakily, and the pieces of Jean’s heart cracked. “Or am I filling in for the one you can never have?”

“You’re not anyone's replacement to me,” Jean utters in disbelief. You are my first love, he wants to say, but what good would it do other than to make him appear to be more pathetic than he already is.

“But you chose to stay with me,” Jean says instead against the head rush that makes him dizzy with hurt all over his body. He wants to hold out this conversation because he wants - he hopes - Eren would say something that can make it all ago away. If Eren tells Jean the right thing now, no matter what is it, he will carry on the charade. “If you had thought you were just a replacement then why did you say you wanted me?”

But Jean has always know Eren Yeager would one day tear him into un-mendable pieces, and it seems today is the day.

Eren merely shrugs flippantly and folds his arms with an air of defiance he never seems to grow out of. He doesn't look at Jean when he replies. “Everyone makes choices they regret one way or another.”

When Jean lifts one of his hands forward, Eren looks startled, but he stays still while Jean pushes aside Eren’s dark hair to reveal one of his ears. Jean can only nod his head in comprehension.

“You’re not lying,” he mumbles as his left hand falls numbly back to his side.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Eren covers his face with both of his palms and scrubs it roughly in clear frustration.“Why are you acting so surprise?” He demands, glaring at Jean, and Jean can see the tight set of his jaw. “We haven’t been in love for years now. We don't go on date, we don't have sex, and we don't even spend time together.”

Jean flinches at this reckless statement.“If this is what you think then why didn't you say anything!” He yells as the stubborn tears finally fall from his eyes. He furiously rubs them away with his hands. “Why did you force your oh-so-mighty self to stay with me if it’s such a chore?”

Eren doesn't hold back his sneer.“Because I know this will happen. Look at you. Crying and looking as if the world did this to you - ” _But the world did this to Jean, Eren has been his world_ “Get real. You’re not the only one who’s hurting, okay?”

Don't try to blame this on me, Jean wants to say, but he swallows these words because he does feel like it’s his fault they fall apart in such an ugly way. “Fuck you,” Jean says weakly and leaves it at that. The will to fight drains seems to have drained out of his system. He didn't come back here with the intention to confront Eren, anyway. His skin feels tight and his head feels sore and swell like they are about to explode.

Drawing another deep breath, he turns to move past Eren. “I get it,” Jean says as he fights back tears, “I’ll leave.”

“You don’t have to,” Eren says from behind him, though he doesn't move. “You can stay here and be my room mate, it wouldn't be any different than now. I’m not even here half the time.”

Jean doesn't response to that. He quickly pack his things, throwing whatever he can fit into his cabin-sized luggage, leaving what he couldn't behind and tells Eren he’ll be back to collect whatever is left soon without looking at him. He doesn't have much in his luggage, because how does one fit five years of his life into a luggage this small?

“Jean,” Eren calls, and Jean can't bear to look at him. It is not plead Jean hears in his voice. It is not.

“You don't have to leave. This is my place as much as yours.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Eren, you own this place.”

A hand encircles Jean’s wrist halts him at his track. “Jean.”

Jean shakes his wrist away from Eren’s clasp. Eren thinks Jean doesn't love him. Eren thinks that they haven't been in love in years. Eren has been sleeping with other people all along. “Seems like this is long time coming," he hears himself says, "I can’t live with a stranger is all.”


	2. Gradual Slope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jean thinks he’s getting better but he knows he’s not.

Jean doesn't go back to the hotel he went last night, not wanting to risk being recognized by the receptionist who checked him in and out the night before and having her to call a bellhop to take his luggage up to his room when she notices he comes with one this time. 

There is only so much humiliation and mortification a guy can handle within a span of twenty-four hours. Having his heart and feelings trampled on is enough; in fact, it’s more than he could take. He just wants to hold on to his pride for as long as he can without worrying about being judged by a stranger. 

So he goes to a grimier hotel than the one before two streets down, and it’s right in between a nightclub and a pub. A passing thought tells him that he probably won’t be getting much sleep with all the noise that is bound to reach his room at night, but he doesn’t really can’t find it in him to give a shit. It’s cheaper too, which is good, he tells himself, as he glares at the discolored floor and ceiling in his room. He doesn't know if he can find another apartment on such a short notice. There’s no telling in how long he’ll be living in a hotel, so it’s better to keep his lodging expense at a minimum.

After he sets an alarm on his phone for Monday, he lethargically falls on the bed that smells funny, but its questionable sanitary barely alarms Jean’s mind. Jean just doesn’t have the energy to care. He turns around to lie on his back and tries to fall asleep with an arm over his eyes, willing his exhaustion to take his consciousness away.

Except it doesn't.

Try as Jean might, but slipping into the state unconsciousness where there is nothing but vortex of blank and void to fill him up is frustratingly beyond his grasp. He doesn't understand why it is so difficult to get some rest when he is so fucking tired. Against his weary being, an endless loop of misery replays and consumes him. He chews his hard on his lips and buries his face in the crook of his elbows, curling into a ball on his side.

His head feels like it is bursting from within, and his cheeks feel sore from tensing his jaw, but at least he isn’t crying now.

When the steady light filter through the thin curtain of his hotel room on Saturday morning, Jean is still wide awake, though his eyes lids feel heavier than before. Sleep continues to elude him. He stays in bed for the entirety of Saturday because his body feels like harden lead, and he is content with staying still. He spent the day staring at the ceilings while lying on the hotel bed, blinking languidly from time to time while the sun shifts from East to West outside his room where the livings are.

On Sunday, he stays in bed too, only moving begrudgingly to order room service for food to be sent up to his room when he realized that he hasn't eaten anything since dinner on Thursday. So much for saving money, he sulks, but he couldn’t find the energy to move. Plus, he has ignored his grumbling stomach long enough. He considers this a win because he takes initiative to feed himself, and that means something.

At some point, his physical and mental exhaustion finally lured him into sleep and finds himself breathing heavily when he snaps out of his nightmare.

At some point of his stillness and self-imposed isolation, his realizes that his phone has died and he is afraid to recharge it.

What if Eren calls, but what if he doesn't? What if Eren texts, but what if he doesn’t?

Jean doesn't know which is worst.

He tries to reason with all the shit that happened, he tries to bargain for a way out with himself. He is a go-to relationship guru working in a radio station, so he tries to take his own advice in his half-awake stupor. What was it that he told Charles that night during his show, as if he knows anything about being ditched without a heads-up? Something about letting things go and moving on. It seemed like such a good advice when he said it back then, but in retrospect, it sounds like something that dribbles out of a cow’s ass.

What does he know? Nothing, apparently. To think he’s been talking shit all along, acting to be holier than thou, giving people advices on how to cope with horrible, awful things he knows nothing about. Turns out he is in a malfunctioning relationship that he can’t fix, and he doesn't even know until it exploded right in his face in the ugliest manner possible. What a joke.

As an attempt to move on and let go, he digs out his digital clock from his luggage – that was sweep in his luggage along with everything on his side of the bedside table – and sets a time to wake him up on Monday afternoon with the intention to go apartment hunting before his shift in the radio station. He lazily tosses it aside after that, determined to fall asleep for the entire night to catch up on his much needed rest. He promises himself not to open his eyes until the alarm rings.

 

-

 

It’s Monday night, and Jean is late by his usual standard.  

He would usually arrive at the studio an hour before he goes live to himself time to review the broadcast content for the night. It’s pathetic how he hit the snooze button again and again even though it was clear that he wouldn't be getting any sleep after he jerks awake from a bad dream, eyes blown wide and catching his breathe as if he was being strangled.

Like a machine being set on autopilot, Jean gets up from the hotel bed and into the shower, mindlessly washing his body and drying himself before putting on clean clothes. He arrives to the studio in a torpid daze at 9:13pm, just a couple of minutes before his segment is scheduled to start. He heads towards the broadcast room immediately, mumbling apologies to the Station Manager who is decidedly relived to see him.

“Thank God you’re here, Kirstein! If you had walked out on the show before it even begins it’ll be my ass on the line. Quick, the last song is ending soon.” 

The ‘on air’ signal flashes green just as Jean pushes the headphone over his head. He plays the greeting slogan for his show and turns on his microphone from the switchboard when it’s over.

Jean opens his mouth and speaks tenderly in a way he knows how, “Hello, dwellers of New York City in the night. You’re listening to The Drive at 108FM and this is Heart to Heart: HTH. I’m Jean and I’ll be with you before the clock strikes twelve on this Monday night. How are y’all doing? It’s 9:16pm, and I hope today has been a great day for you. If it isn’t, don’t worry about it, because it will get better. The topic of the night is something light-hearted and possibly nostalgic. Before we dive into today’s topic, let me play you the first song of the night. Be sure to stay tune.”

For his entire shift in the studio, Jean immerses himself in his words and the tone of his voice, making sure to keep any strain from inflecting in his voice. He talks about eye candies and school crushes, reading from the notes he had prepared beforehand from the desktop with in a smoothing yet lively manner. He plays upbeat bubblepop songs. He announces traffic updates. He recites antidotes after antidotes submitted by his listeners and even chuckles at the truly ridiculous ones. He asks his listeners who have similar stories to call in, and he does his best in advising them and congratulating them if they the stories they shared are of a happy note. He feels like himself.

When the segment comes to an end, Jean feels almost disappointed. After turning off the switch for his microphone, he sighs loudly and leans heavily on his swirly chair. He takes off his headphones and he runs a hand over his damp hair, sitting there in silence for a minute before standing up to leave the broadcasting room with heavy eyelids, feeling light-headed and empty.

“Jean!” Moblit, the Station Manager approaches him just as he steps past the threshold of the broadcasting room.

Jean pauses and waits for him to continue. “You’re nearly late for your show today,” Moblit says sternly, or as stern as he can be. “But on the account that you have never done it before, I’m gonna let you off with a reminder as long as not do that again.”

“Thanks,” Jean says softly in slumped shoulders, his dry eyes glazing over Moblit's once and back to his shoes.

Moblit regards him for a moment. “Are you alright? You look pale, well, paler than user.”

Jean feels like he’s being caught red-handed at doing something he’s trying to hide. He manages a small smile. “I’m fine, Moblit,” he drawls out his lie. He waves a hand in a flippant gesture. “Just caught a nasty cold. It’s nothing.” 

Moblit looks skeptical, and Jean feels like maybe he should fake a loud, exaggerated sneeze to back him up, but he doesn't feel that it’s important enough to warrant the effort. He sniffs instead.

“Well, you better go home and rest then. You already know you’ll be taking over Petra while she goes on maturity leave in a couple of months, right? The producer wants to have a meeting with you and Hanji on the broadcast content for the following month.“

“Hmm, that’s fine,” Jean replies curtly, maintaining the deceptive curve on his lips, nodding his head in response.

“Okay then, go home and get some sleep. You look like you’re going to fall over anytime soon, but great job with your show earlier,” Moblit grins and gives Jean a thumb up before patting him on the shoulder.

“Thanks, boss,” Jean grins and makes his way to leave the studio; his relaxed expression instantly folds into a worn out one the moment he steps past Moblit.

When Jean gets off the lift and walks on the sidewalk by the building to get to the metro, his mind wanders to Eren. When he glances at the cars parked on the side of the road, he can’t help to wonder if Eren would show up here with his car, seeking for Jean to hear him out.

No such luck, he snorts to himself. When he suddenly finds that he desperately wants it to happen, he berates himself for being so stupid and pathetic because Eren fucking Yeager will not do that. Not for the likes of Jean Kirstein who is too weak and too pitiful whom Eren Yeager does not love.

He said it himself. He doesn’t love Jean. He only stayed because he thinks Jean is too fragile to survive if he had broken up with him. Jean’s heart aches at that reminder.

Don’t think about Eren _._ Don’t think about Eren, he repeats to himself, in his head as if it is a mantra that would save his soul, because the mere thought of Eren feels like being hit by freight train at full speed. It crashes his body, a making his face burn and his eyes stings with unshed wetness.

He cries himself to sleep that night.

 

-

 

Two months have gone past, just like that, and Jean is still feeling miserable – seems like life no goes no matter how bleak he feels. At least he has moved out of the hotel. Three weeks ago, he finally managed to get himself out of his hotel room instead of lying on the bed like an invalid and found an affordable studio apartment in the opposite direction of Eren’s place. 

When he’s not at the working in the studio or running his live segment, he’s in bed. On a handful of days when he feels extra wretched, he goes out and get wasted, spending the following afternoon nursing his hangover. He lets men and women pick him up in bars and clubs. He goes home with them if they asked. It wasn’t enjoyable or anything like that, but it’s numbing – it’s exactly what Jean needs to go to sleep on some nights.

The first time he slips into a club right beside his hotel was after he finally finds the courage to charge his phone. If his co-workers hadn’t been hassling him on his sudden lack of contactability when he wasn't in the studio after he missed two meetings, he probably would have left it drained and dead.

It was ridiculous how he gets nervous about turning on his phone again. He remembered the frantic beating of his heart against his chest as scrolled through the list of messages and miss-call with bated breath and sweaty palms. He remembered how was both simultaneously relieved and tortured when the list of unread message and missed call got shorter and shorter and none of it were from Eren.

It is exactly as he expected but hoped against his will. It figures that since Eren has long wanted to kick Jean out of his life, would naturally leave Jean be when he finally got his wish.

His next mistake is to allow himself to think about which nameless stranger is having sex with Eren now – it invokes jealousy, hurt, anger and a wheel of emotions that makes Jean feels defeated and enraged all at once. 

He just needed to cope. Is that so bad?

Jean is doing well so far. No one knows he's actually neck deep in self-pity and blisters from being burned by love. Nobody knows his shame and his failure from being an such awful lover - a completely oblivious and selfish one at that too, since he had no inking of a clue of how unhappy Eren was until he sees it himself. No one knows he was been cheated on by Eren Yeager, one of the most popular rockstar extraordinaire of their time. Then again, their relationship was never announced, never once brought into the spotlight. Still, Eren – that ever bigheaded and beautiful and demeaning bastard – had thought Jean would crumble and die if he left him, but guess what?

Jean’s surviving.

He’s functioning at the very least – he goes out and socializes on weekends, does it matter if it is not with his friends? Every interactions he bothered to even make counts, okay? He goes to work and mingles with his co-workers. He smiles and sasses when he has to, waving off each of their concern when they casually asked about the dark crescent beneath his eyes and his gaunt appearance on his already slim body – all tell-tale sign of his state of being – with a flimsy excuse about catching the season flu. 

So what if he has cancelled on Connie and Sasha for few weeks in a row now with crappy excuses they clearly don't buy? So what if he has been putting off his weekly Skype call with Marco, who doing busy his residency in Seattle? He is fine.  He is on his way to get over Eren. Given more time, he’ll be better, and it’ll be as if Eren had never existed.

 

-

 

It’s another typical Wednesday night in the studio. He feels lethargic, but he feels like he’s starting to get used to it since it's like the state of his perpetual being now.

Jean has spent his morning dragging himself out of another strangers’ bed and the afternoon nursing his hangover. Tuesday is the fifth night in the row that he threw all caution to the wind, went out and got smashed. This is a lot for him, especially when his previous record was to party two consecutive weeks on Friday nights. He would have thought that his body will get used to it, but it seems like hangover will always be a tough bitch to rid off no matter how often it is experienced. 

Jean receives his first call of the night.

“Hello,” a soft feminine voice buzzes over the airwave. “My name is Meryl.”

“Hey there, Meryl,” Jeans says and his voice cracked at the last word. He clears his throat as quietly as he can and rubs the back of his index finger over his left eye. “Sorry, about that, seems like I’ve caught a flu. Just a little reminder to all of you out there: it may be July, but please remember to sleep with your shirt on if you’re having the air conditioning on at full blast,” he laughs it off. “How are you doing, Meryl?” 

A small chuckle and then an audible sigh. “I’m doing not so hot, Jean, I must say. Look, I’m gonna go straight to the point. I… I’m with someone I really love, but before we got together, we weren’t the best of friends, you know? We couldn't even stay in the same room for more than ten minutes without going at each other’s throat. It’s all very immature, I know, but when we got into collage, we pulled our heads out of our ass –“ _Bleep_. “Try not to use bad words, Meryl,” Jean reminds her.

“Opps, butt then,” there’s a hint of careful nonchalance in her voice, and Jeans listens intently, feeling something like déjà vu as he is instantly reminded of how Eren and him had behaved with each other in the past.

“We pulled our heads out of our butt, and we started dating. I’m always the abrasive one between us. I’m bashful and sharp, and at the beginning, it seems like he’s the one who has to compromise the most in our relationship. Everyone thinks so. But, the thing is, as we date, I’m the one who yields. I’m just the type of person who will give my all to the person I chose to love, you know? I can only love one person in this life, so it makes sense to do everything I can to make us happy, right?”

“Yeah,” Jean replies. “I get you,” he says softly, because he is exactly like Meryl. He feels like he’s been in Meryl’s shoes.

“Recently, we’ve been fighting. A lot. When we argue, he make it sound as if he’s the one making all the sacrifice, and I’m the one who keeps taking and taking and sucking him dry without giving him anything in return. But it’s not like that and he can’t see that. He makes me feel like it’s my fault, and I just don't know how to deal with it anymore.”

Jean’s thoughts are drifted into directions he rather not follows. He spaces out.

“Jean?” 

He blinks multiple times and snaps out his daze. He is supposed to say something now, but his mind draws to a blank. He doesn't have an answer for that. He is not adequate to give advice on something so upsettingly similar to what he’s going though. What can he tell Meryl that is helpful? Tell her the way to forget about the ex is to sleep around and skip out meetings with their mutual friends? He feels dizzy.

“Jean, are you there? Am I still on the line?”

“Meryl, I’m sorry, but this sounds really complicated. Seems like there’s some communication break down going on between the two of you. Have you tried ironing it out?” 

“Of course, but it ends in an argument every time.” 

“A conversation of this nature is more always more difficult to approach than the other,” Jean says, racking his brains for neutral things to say, “keep your cool and try to get him to sit down and make him promise not to leave until the air is clear. If he still wants to preserve this relationship, then I’m sure he’ll appreciate you taking the first step to talk it out calmly.”

Jean can practically hear Meryl shaking her head from the other side. “It won’t work,” she says. “Just last night, he accuses me of not loving him and fuck him-“ _bleep_ “– for saying that. He doesn't know how much it hurts to hear him say that. Like, come on. I love him more than my life, and he just throws it in my face like it meant nothing to him.”

Jean can’t help but to think that Meryl has the courage to say what doesn't dare to say.

“Why must I be the one who reaches out to him when he acts like my love doesn't mean anything to him?” she continues hotly. “I tried to make it better. It’s his fault!”

Yeah, that sounds like Eren and him, alright. He regards Eren tantamount to his life, but Eren doesn't see it this way. Eren thinks Jean is only making use of him, that Jean doesn't love him. He thinks Jean is playing victim far too often in their relationship. He makes Jean feels like it’s his fault, and Jean agrees with him. Jean should’ve known that Eren wasn't happy with him. If Jean had claimed to love Eren so much, then how come he didn't know that Eren was unhappy?

“Maybe it is really your fault then. Maybe it is his fault too, but it doesn’t matter now, does it? This is just over.” He says to himself softly, but the microphone in front of his lips has picked up every decibel of his words, transporting each of his lines to the city of listeners who are tuning in to him.

He realizes his mistake only a second after the last word past his lips.

There it is, his first major blunder of his budding career for all to hear. Everyone is going to know how much of a sham and a shitty person he is now for saying something like that on air. The number one rule of his job is to never place the blame on the caller and he just broke it without meaning to.

He disconnects the phone call in panic, and panics harder a millisecond after he realized the implication and consequences of his actions. He resists the urge to curse and makes the situation worse.

Jean really feels out of his element right now, he doesn't want to say anything relating to this. No matter what he says, it’ll most likely end up in flames, because look at him!

“I’m sorry, Meryl, that your call is disconnected due to some technical difficulties,” he says as he tries to keep his erratic heartbeat under control. He swallows against his parched throat. “If you don't mind, let me continue what I wanted to say. I hope you’re still listening.”

He inhales deeply through his nose before responding, deciding to go ahead with his idealistic beliefs that will never work for Eren and him in real life.

“What I was trying to say was that it doesn't matter whose fault it is. I think it’ll be good for the both of you to talk it out instead of blaming each other in the dark. If the two of you still love each other, then don’t let it be over. That is what I meant. Thank you for calling in, Meryl, I wish you all the best.”

Jean glances at the digital clock on his desktop – 20 more minutes before the segment ends. He has to take at least one more call. He calls for a song before taking another call. This night isn’t going to be over yet, he thinks as he miserably slouches into his seat.

When he leaves the broadcast room, he has his head hung low. He screwed up this time - he knows he did. Moblit, who has been asking after Jean health for weeks, takes one look at him and tells him to go home and rest well.

So much for getting better. That what he gets for being dumb enough to slip up in his work. 

Jean dips his head in embarrassment and leaves the studio.

Jean listlessly steps out of the lift with hunched shoulder and lumbers his way out of the main building. He sees the black sport car parked on the opposite side of the building across the near empty streets as soon as he stepped down the stairs. He jerks into a stop with wide eyes and a moment of held breath when he recognizes the tall figure standing in front of the vehicle.

It is Eren, who is leaning on his back by the door of his sports car, which model Jean has never bothered to find out. Even against the dark of the night and the dark clothing Eren has donned on, Jean’s brain identified him the second he sees him. It instantly takes Jean back to high school, when Eren came to pick him up in his car from the opposite street of Jean’s house in the middle of the night when the fights between his parents got out of hand.

Fast-forward, years from now, Eren is still here when Jean is hurt, except that he was the one who inflicted that pain this time around. 

Eren has parked his car away from the streetlights, wearing an inconspicuous black jacket with its hoodie over his inclined head and his hands are stuff into the pockets of his jeans. He doesn't seem to have noticed Jean, apparently too distracted by kicking invisible dirt and dust with the tip of his boots.

Jean’s heart falls into his stomach as a chill catches his body. Like an animal hiding away from a deadly predator, Jean slowly back away before Eren sees him and makes an escape by running the opposite direction down the sideway. Who cares if he has to walk around the building to get to the metro? He just can’t handle seeing Eren now or ever.

He doesn’t need his barely dried-up ugly wound to be infected.

Is it bad to say he hates every breath he takes?

Good thing he isn’t going to admit it.

 

 

 


	3. Night Time Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three interventions, one of which makes Jean wishes he had let sleeping dog lies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made several amendments after I posted this chapter the first time. Subscribers, so sorry for the spam in your mailbox! 
> 
> Anyway, I'd love to know what y'all think of this story so far. Let me know if you have any thoughts :)

The next day is the first day of his temporary partnership with Hanji while Petra goes off to maturity leave for the four months. Their segment, known as ‘Good cop, Bad cop,’ is scheduled to air daily in the afternoon from 1:30pm to 4pm, featuring the hottest hits and latest celebrities tattles. It is undoubtedly the most popular show on The Drive. Jean thinks the selling point has a lot to do with the entertainment factor Hanji brings. The way they critically dissect and comment on each and every piece of rumors that catches their attention is really something to be admired. Hanji is the ‘bad cop’ because of that. Petra, on the other hand, is the ‘good cop,’ complementing Hanji’s merciless bluntness by defending the celebrities from Hanji’s wild interpretations while throwing in subtle digs when she sees fit.

Jean is supposed to fill up Petra’s role of a ‘good cop,’ so he is not sure why he’s the one being dissected by Hanji over the airwave. They have been lightly chatting over the latest rumors when Hanji pulls a fast one on him. 

“So a little bird told me you had a panic attack and hung up on one of your callers just last night,” Hanji says with an easy grin across him. They have a messy ponytail tied up and Jean is startled for a brief second before recovering, keeping his cadence light and questioning with an undertone of sarcasm.

“I wouldn't say it’s a panic attack. Uh hey, I didn’t know birds stayed up that late to listen to my voice. You sure they aren’t owls?”

“Ha! I may not be a bird expert, but – “

“Ornithologist.”

“What?”

Jean casually leans on the back of his black meshed chair and sways on his seat gently. Airily, he says, “Bird experts are called ornithologists.”

Hanji cackles, taking no offense, their brown eyes glinting behind their black-rimmed frames. “Wow, Jean. Well, I may not an ornithologist, but I know my birds well.”

“Hmm, I’m sure you do,” Jean nods while praying for Hanji to drop the topic in his mind. “It’s never my intention to question your understanding of your birds. Hope your birds enjoyed my show last night despite my slight boo-boo.”

“Of course! My birds are big fans of yours! Anyways, what were you talking about last night before you disconnected your caller?”

A pause. “I am feeling slightly uncomfortable. Why are we talking about birds again? Is it a metaphor for something else?”

Hanji tuts into their microphone and wags a finger at Jean. “Uh uh uh,” they say in a sing-along tune. Don’t try to change the subject. It ain’t working on me. Come on, I’m sure your listeners are curious too.” 

Jean is smiling when he replies, but he is already re-evaluating his opinion of Hanji, who is slowly turning out to be an asshole in disguise. “Come on, Hanji,” he intones, drawing a hand to comb his hair, hoping to appear blasé. “I know the listenership for Heart to Heart is pretty good, but I don't think I’m famous enough for you to pull your bad-cop routine on me. Cut me some slack.”

“Doesn't matter,” they insist. “I just feel like messing with you because you remind me of one of favorite people. He’s so grumpy you wouldn't believe it! But he’s adorable too you can’t help but to want to bait him a little, you know, just to ruffle his feathers.” Their tone is light and energetic as they continue. “He’s super short though, so you’re the taller version of him.”

Jean laughs tries to divert the topic. “Wow Hanji, thanks! I feel kinda flattered. Though I think it must be tough being one of your favorite person.”

“Don’t worry Jean! You’ll find out soon enough!”

“Is this an initiation?”

“No, silly! But it’s a promise though. Heads up, the initiation happens after the broadcast.”

“What? Dear listeners, if Hanji is the only one hosting ‘Good Cop, Bad Cop’ tomorrow, assume I didn't make it past the initiation of horror that is waiting for me after this.”

“I’m just kidding. Anyways, so what’s up with yesterday’s lines? I can quote them if you don't remember.”

“Hanji.”

“Jean.”

Concealing all his frustration, Jean sighs softly.

“Must you put me on a spot on our first day?” He says, positively flashing pleading eyes at Hanji to drop it. “Why don't we move on to the next celebrity tattle – _which_ is actually relevant?”

“Jean, you’re pretty relevant!” Hanji immediately says, her unwavering eyes behind the black-rimmed spectacle flashes into seriousness not unlike her voice. “If our resident relationship expert is having trouble in paradise, who is our listeners gong spill their hearts out to?”

Jean falls quiet for a moment, eyes on Hanji as he ponders for a second. Is there ever paradise in Eren and Jean’s world? Jean refuses to give a definite answer, simply citing, “Maybe, maybe not,” he says in a playful gibe and a crooked smile. “That’s for me to know, and y’all to never find out. And now let’s go back to teenage pop sensation Christa’s rumored love affair with national tennis player Ymir, the female giant.”

-

After weeks of dwelling in his isolation and misery, Jean is finally ambushed by the duo that is Connie and Sasha, the ever so loyal-best-friends-he-could-ever-ask-for. Really, it’s always been a matter of time.

It is Sasha who spots him first.

She exclaims loudly with pointing finger and all, completely disregarding the fact that she is hollering in front of a metro station at midnight. “Jean! You’re alive! Look Connie, Jean is not dead in a ditch like you fear! Marco will be very happy to know that.”

Jean winces as several people on the streets looks over at Sasha. He resists rolling his eye as he continues to walk forward. Not that he can go in other direction since they’re practically in front of the entrance.

“Hey Jean buddy,” Connie says with a wide smile and spread arms when Jean willingly approaches them. He appears and sound as friendly as he always is, unlike Sasha who is eying at him suspiciously like he’s gonna turn around and make a run for it the first chance he gets. “How have you been so far? Have you missed us?”

“Yeah,” Jean says softly, pressing aside guilt for pushing them away, and for not telling them about Eren. “Sorry, I’ve been busy. You know, with taking over Petra for the afternoon segment and all.”

Sasha who is standing right besides Connie purses her lips and looks at Jean knowingly. “Busy working with the afternoon segment or moving to a new place without telling us?”

Connie shoves Sasha with his elbow and she stumbles a little, surprised. She shoves him right back with the palm of her hand to his shoulder. He nearly stumbled under her easy brute force but managed to stand firmly on the ground. Jean supposes it can only come with practice.

“Sasha,” Connie hisses loudly with a frown, “we talked about approaching this with sensitivity.”

Jean heaves a sigh and runs a lazy hand over his mussed hair. He hasn't bothered to style it of late. “You guy know,” he says plainly, feeling uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” Connie says apologetically, albeit with hesitation, sympathetic all over his face.

“We’re sorry Jean,” Sasha says quietly too.

“Man, we’re really sorry,” Connie says again. “It’s really abrupt. We know how much Eren means to you…” He trails off, running an awkward hand over his buzzcut. He hesitates before continuing, “I thought you guys were in love.”

Well, isn’t that the most hilarious thing? Because so did Jean.

Clearly it has all been in Jean’s head.

“Yeah, and with no indication or whatsoever, you guys just break up,” Sasha added gently. “It’s really a surprising.”

Jean said nothing because he’s sure it would hurt to admit it aloud. Verbalizing his biggest shame and torment makes it real. It solidifies the fact that it had all been in his head. It means acknowledging that Eren has never loved him and the thought of it simply cannot hold.

“Jean?”

Jean shakes his head and pulls off a rough chuckle that sounds way too forced. “How did you guys find out anyway?”

Connie and Sasha exchange a look. 

Jean looks between them before settling his eyes on the ground and tugging his hands into the pockets of his jeans, wiggling his toes in his shoes at sudden surge of insecurity and vulnerability.

Not a second later, Sasha reaches out and tips Jean’s chin up with a fierce look reflecting in her brown eyes. “Chin up, Jean!”

Jean doesn’t have the effort to push away the familiar comfort he needs.

“We got worried when you kept turning down our plans to meet up,” Connie starts. “So we went to Eren’s apartment to look for you. He said you left after you guys broke up and he hasn't seen you since.”

Just how much do they know? Did Eren tell them everything?

Sasha pulls her hand back and continues. “We tried to wait for you outside the building of your studio, but it’s as if you never came out. It’s as if you were camping there.”

Ever since Jean spots Eren that night outside the main entrance, he has been leaving by the side entrance every night, just in case Eren shows up again. He does that although he knows in his heart Eren wouldn't be so dedicated. Surely a famous asshole like him has things to do and people to screw.

But still, the pieces of Jean’s heart burns for him.

Connie takes over the explanation again. “So then me and Sasha decided to wait for you at the Metro because you have got to go home somehow right? Unless being a radio DJ is suddenly earning big enough bucks to take a cab home every night.”

“Well, you guys are right,” Jean shrugs, tugging on a small smile at the corner of his mouth. “Cabbing home everyday is way beyond the budget of an airwave DJ.”

“And right we are!” Connie cuts in. “How about you reward us by showing us to your new place, hmm?”

“Yeah!” Sasha agrees rowdily, bopping her head up and down with her fists held in front of her chest. “Bring us to your new place, Jean! We can watch titanic while consuming ice-cream by pints!”

Jean throws her a dirty look. “I’m not a girl who just got dumped by her dreamy boyfriend in a chick flick.” 

Sasha merely holds up a finger and says elaborately. “But you are a boy who broke up with a dreamy boyfriend of a rockstar.”

Connie shoves her harder this time. “Sasha! For the last time, we’ve talked about this. Be sensitive!”

Sasha does not shove him back, but she crosses her arm in defiance.

“I’m sorry, Jean,” Sasha mildly says to Jean before rounding up Connie with a narrowed glare. “But if you shove me one more time,” she enunciates severely to Connie, “you will regret it.”

Sighing for the third time within last ten minutes, Jean turns and heads towards the underground, “are you guys coming or not?”

-

Here they are, in Jean’s newly moved in apartment which consist of a tiny kitchen, a bedroom, a bathroom, and a living room. It’s small, but its sufficient living space for one person.

The moment Jean let Sasha and Connie through the door, he dumps his bag on the floor and trudges over to his sofa and seats on the side with armrest. He lets them roam free in his new apartment while propping his chin on his palm.

They did not watch Titanic, and Sasha was severely disappointed when she finds that there are no tubs of ice-cream residing in Jean’s fridge just as she has fantasied.

“I swear I’m not being insensitive,” Sasha says when she realizes that Jean’s kitchen is void of any junkfood, or food in particular, “but what were you doing when you were avoiding social interactions with us while nursing your heartache if not bingeing on snacks and ice-cream?”

“Yeah, dude. There is literally nothing in your kitchen,” Connie says; poking his head out of the kitchen, clear disbelief in his tone. “Not even take-out bags. What do you eat?”

“I just eat out a lot -” he replies from his sofa in the living room. It was a lie unless grabbing a sandwich from a convenience store counts “- and I also clear my trash a lot.”

Naturally, Connie and Sasha prod for more. “So what have you been doing? ‘Cos it looks like you’ve spend a lot of time here, staring at the ceiling doing nothing.”

“I do go out often,” Jean says mildly, slouching into the sofa. “I’m not a hermit.”

They raised an eyebrow in sync. “To get wasted. To forget. You know, all the lame stuff people do after a break up,” Jean tells them truthfully. There is no harm in telling them that and he is too tired to think of a suitable excuse. 

Sasha crosses over in a few quick steps and drops herself on the sofa next to Jean. She brings up both of her legs and sits sideway so she’s facing him. “How often have you been doing that?”

“Uh, just every now and then when I feel like having night caps.” 

“Well, as long as you don’t over do it,” she says slowly and squints up at Jean.

Jean starts to squirm as Sasha’s brown eyes flicker around his features; she is clearly studying his face. “What?”

“We’re just worried,” Sasha says simply. “You look like, well,” she shrugs with one shoulder.

Frowning, Jean repeats, “Well?”

Connie explains breezily as he ambers from the Kitchen to the sofa where Jean and Sasha are sitting on and stops right besides Jean. “What Sasha is saying is: “Man, you look like you’re perpetually suffering from either insomnia and hangover. I’m gonna go with both, but I don't want to say it directly.””

“Now who’s being insensitive?”

Jean supposes that is the look he’s sporting weeks for now, but hearing someone calling him out on it makes him feels defensive. “I’m fine. Don't worry about me,” he says curtly and turns away from Sasha’s gaze, pointedly ignoring both Connie and Sasha in favor of staring at the wall in front of him.

Jean can tell from a moment of silence that Sasha and Connie are far from convinced, but they let it rest. “So, what happened, really?”

He folds his lips into a thin line and looks away; his voice is small when he replies because he doesn't have the strength to say it aloud. “Didn’t he say?”

“He just said you guys broke up. That’s it.”

“That’s it?” Jean says softly, feeling somewhat skeptical yet relief.

“Yeap,” they chorused in affirmative.

Jean lets out a loud sighs and slouches further down. “He was in front of the studio last week,” he blurts. The confession somehow is making Jean feels simultaneously lighter and anxious. He hasn't told anyone Eren – not that he has anyone to tell – and it has been niggling at Jean since it then.

“What?” Both Sasha and Connie exclaims. Sasha is so taken aback, she has a grip on Jean’s shoulder while Connie whips his face in front of Jean. “What did he want?”

“I didn’t stay to find out,” Jean swallows dryly in his throat, taking in their collective look of shock and curiosity. “It doesn't look like you guys know anything about this.”

“Why would we know anything about this?”

“Don’t know,” Jean mumbles. “I thought you guys pester him to come find me or something.”

“Well, we didn’t,” Connie says, giving Jean a considering look. He shrugs. “Maybe you should hear him out the next time. He might want another chance with you -“

“No.” Jean cuts him off harshly because he knows he shouldn't think this way, shouldn’t give himself false hope that will surely crumble later, but the thought of Eren looking for Jean out of his willingness and not at their friends’ insistence makes Jean’s heart leaps.

“Trust me, he doesn't. He doesn't – “ Jean abruptly stops his words from tumbling out of his mouth. “He just doesn’t.” 

“But why do– “

Jean inhales a deep breath through his nose, opening his mouth and closing it again before stuttering out a weak response. “I… I just don’t want to talk about it now. I can’t.”

“Okay,” Sasha assures immediately, nodding her head, trying to let him know that she understands. She wraps an arm around Jean’s shoulder – a comforting gesture – and says, “Just know that me and Connie are here if you need someone to talk to.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Jean murmurs, leaning into her embrace, distantly wondering if she was ever so mature.

“And Marco too,” Sasha says as an afterthought. “Even though he’s not in town.”

 The corners of Jean’s lips pulls into a tiny smile naturally. “Yeah, and Marco too. How can we forget Marco?”

“Let’s not forget about me, guys!” Connie goes around the sofa and carelessly flops down beside Sasha. “How can we forget about you, Connie? You’re like a bug drowned in glue that sticks around and never come off.”

Connie huffs, “And here I thought you are becoming more mature.” He sighs long-sufferingly, nodding to himself in a overdramatic fashion. “My mistake to overestimate you.”

Sasha whips her head around, “why you – “

“Stop fighting or leave,” Jean interjects exasperatedly, putting an end to this fight before it starts. Seriously, why are these two even friends with how often they have a go with each other?

They fall docile at this. “We promise we’ll behave?” Connie grins.

“It won’t work if it’s a question. That’s not how it works.”

And well, it goes on and on.

-

It’s a Thursday night, and Jean drunk. He couldn’t help but let his hope float up high. The potentially positive outcome makes Jean dizzy. He gives in to the risky chance to make it happen as liquid courage dictates. He has been here thousands of time, knows every turn of the corridor on the level of Eren’s condo. He stayed here for years, damn it. He could find his way here even when he’s blind.

So here he is, Jean thinks as unexplained triumph swells in his chest. He managed to make his way here even though he could hardly walk straight. That, Jean insists, is certainly something to be proud of in his drunken mind. He feels brave and his tongue feels loose. He lifts his hand to key in the passcode that would unlock the door that would reveal the personal abode that once belonged to both Eren and Jean, but his emotions turns sour for some reason that his mind cannot comprehend. His hand falters. 

Oh yeah. _How_ could it have slipped his mind - it is, afterall, the playback of the very same images that would not stop haunting him.

The last time he was here he unknowingly barged into something insidious. Who knows what other awful shit he will see if he just went through the door unannounced the last time? Better knock then.

The door swings open in seconds. Jean looks at Eren with bleary eyes.

Eren doesn’t look happy to see him, but he doesn't look unhappy either. He looks irritated, if Jean has to say – his eyebrows are furrowed and his jaws are set and everything. Jean feels offended in that instant, but then Eren’s expression morphs to from being mildly irritated to unguarded surprise like he cannot that believe Jean is here.

Eren's already freaky big, round green eyes opening wider and mouth falling slack somehow paints a funny picture to Jean, who giggles and then slaps a hand over his mouth when he realizes his actions.

“Are you drunk, Jean?”

Jean falls quiet as he looks intently at Eren, who is standing at the threshold of his home, wearing a loose t-shirt that hangs over his broad shoulders and pajamas pants with green cartoon alien prints riding low in his hips. Eren’s messy head of hair is looking more untamed than usual. He looks homey, Jean thinks involuntarily, and his heart twinges.

Well, guess what? Jean may be drunk, but he knows better than to assume that Eren was innocently sleeping before he was rudely awakened in the dead of midnight.

Jean straightens himself and asks bluntly. “Are you alone or having sex with someone else in there?” 

Eren looks taken aback at Jean’s question. Nevertheless, he answers in a curtly. “I’m alone.”

“Good,” Jean mutters and carelessly pushes past Eren to enter the apartment that was once his home with Eren. He strolls towards the living room, taking care to make sure he doesn't stumble and stops by the television, staring at a picture in a photo frame sitting on the TV console. It’s a picture of Jean and Eren grinning happily at the camera, taken when he moved in here with him. Bitterness boils in his chest and he wouldn't be surprised if he chokes on them if he wasn't careful. He keeps his mouth shut about the picture and turns around to face Eren, realizing that he hasn't taken off his shoes somehow.

“Are you here to collect the rest of your things?” Eren asks lightly. There was a rough edge to the inflection of his voice, effectively cutting into Jean’s thoughts as stands in the middle of the living room, contemplating if he should removed his shoes.

Screw Eren’s floor. They can take some dirt from Jean’s shoes.

Jean pushes back the indignation that surges at Eren’s impersonal question after months of not speaking to each other. He spins on his heels and to meet Eren’s eyes undauntedly. “Yeah, I am,” Jean lies boldly, puffing up his chest for some reason. He has completely forgotten about the things he didn't manage to squeeze into his luggage that day. “I am here to collect my stuff and also I have a question for you.” 

“Okay.” Eren says calmly, nodding seriously with hands over the side of his hips. “Erm, I’ve packed them for you. They’re in a duffle bag. Let me get them for you,” he says and disappears down the corridor.

Jean’s courage falters as he stands rooted on the spot, waiting for Eren to retrieve his belonging so thoughtfully packed by the man himself. It feels like a bucket of cold water mixed with acid has been dropped on Jean’s head, and he is drenched from head to toe with corrosive liquid that has began to eat his flesh away. It’s ludicrous how this cozy apartment he called home for years suddenly feels like a strange place that might as well be in the middle of nowhere.

“Here it is,” Eren says, announcing his return. “There are still some stuff that can’t fit in a bag so I packed them up in boxes. I can send them to your current address.” Jean stays silence, completely ignoring Eren. He’s afraid to look at him, but he roughly snatches the bag out off Eren’s hands, fingers brushing across Eren’s skin in the process.

“Thanks,” Jean mumbles to the floor with the handle of the duffle bag clenched tightly in his hand. His chest is roaring with shameful exclamations that Eren Jeager cannot wait to get Jean’s shit out of his house so much that he packed for him.

It is all so clear now; he should not have come here.

“No, it’s nothing.” Jean hears Eren says softly. “I just wanted to make it easier for you.”

Helplessly, Jean scoffs, still not looking up. He slowly puts one feet behind another other and turns around to leave. “Right, I better get going then. Don’t worry about the boxes. Dump them.”

“What?” Eren questions, sounding completely baffled. He quickly crosses over to stand in front of Jean, effectively stopping him from leaving. “Are you sure? Your favorite sweater is in the box.”

Jean can’t help it. He chuckles jaggedly and shakes his head in disbelief. Eren really has his priority right seeing that he could care less that he had hurt Jean in the worst possible way but cares about Jean discarding his favorite sweater. He takes in Eren’s apprehensive expression and the little cease in between his eyebrows and stops chuckling. Looking at Eren dead in the eye, he assures in a tone that he hopes is confident with a hint of defiance all at once. “Don’t worry,” he hears himself says and remembers that the sweater is present from Eren. “I won’t miss it. 

Eren flickers his eyes away from Jean and when those green eyes are on Jean again, they look pensive. “I understand,” he says softly, and Jean wonders if Eren remembers that the sweater was a gift from him.

“Listen,” Eren clears his throat, hesitation plain in Eren’s voice when he speaks. His body is looming in front of Jean like a storm. “How are you?”

“Good,” comes Jean quick reply. It’s a lie he doesn't need to think too much about.

“That’s great to hear,” Eren replies, sounding more tentative than before. This is strange, Jean thinks, Eren has always been gutsy, never showing any uncertainty in his action. Then he says, “Jean – “ Jean’s heart squeezes when Eren calls his name so he turns his face away. “- I want to apologize for what – “

Jean shuts him up before he can apologize for whatever he feels apologetic for. For cheating on Jean or for the way he treated Jean the day Jean leaves, it just doesn't matter now - he doesn't want to hear apologies. “Don’t bother.”

Eren’s words fall flat immediately.

The silence between them is stifling and Jean suddenly feels very sober. “You haven’t asked me the question you came here to ask.”

“Right,” Jean affirms, slowly lifting his head to look at Eren. He simply stares at Eren for a few moments. Eren, whose gaze is ever so intense but his expression so guarded, shifts his legs under Jean’s unperturbed stare, blinking slowly as he carefully regards Jean as well.

Jean breathes and rubs a finger over his eyes, deciding to throw all caution to the wind and straight to what he came here for. “I saw you when I came out of studio after a shift,” he says slowly, focusing on not to slur. “Why were you there?”

It seems like Eren has expected this question because he didn't pause to answer. “I was nearby so I went over. To see if you wanted to talk but from the way you never seem to leave the building from the main exit, I get that you don’t.”

“After three months?" 

Eren looks down to his feet once before replying. His voice is a low murmur that Jean wants to fall asleep to. “I heard your show the first day I showed up. The one where Meryl called you?”

Jean nods languidly but doesn't say a word. 

“It just reminded me of us and I just – just want to make sure you’re alright.”

Even in Jean’s inebriated mind, Eren’s words sound open and honest, but it does not make everything all right. “No, I don't think Meryl mentioned she has a cheating boyfriend,” Jean says offhandedly with an equally flippant gesture.

Looks like Eren doesn't have a word to say against that from how he presses his lips together, averting his eyes away from Jean. Being spiteful feels so good. In the back of Jean’s mind, he knows it is the alcohol in his system that is making him feel this bold and forward. Either way, Jean thinks he would not have a single word to regret when morning comes.

“Why did you do it?” Jean pushes obnoxiously.

When Eren didn’t give a response right away, Jean bites harshly into his lips, finding himself getting furious when Eren looks like he doesn't know Jean is asking why Eren cheated on him or why Eren wanted to make sure Jean’s alright. 

“If you care about me,” Jean spits brazenly in a significantly louder voice as compared from before, “then why did you do that? Why did you bring a stranger back to our home, to our bed?” 

He knows he shouldn't have said the next line, but he did. It blurts out of his mouth like the question he’s been dying to know the answer to. “Don’t you love me?”

As easily as Eren stopped Jean from leaving, he puts a stop to Jean’s question. “Don’t ask for reasons,” he says resolutely, tone indicating that he will not be moving from his stance to tell Jean what he wants to know. Jean can feel his will to demand answers out of Eren slowly slipping away. The point of all of this – being here – is lost to Jean as he holds his breathe at the closed off expression on Eren’s face.

It should be yesterday’s news that Jean has always been waging a lost war against Eren, but to Jean, this is heartbreak all over again.

“Really, Eren?” Jean asks numbly, automatically, just to keep the conversation going so he won’t fall apart right then. His balls his shaking hands into fists.

Eren shuts his eyes for a long moment. “What’s the point of asking for reasons and explanation now?” He continues half defensively, half gravely. “What I did was inexcusable. There is nothing that can justify what I have done.”He lets out a short bitter laugh. “But you can’t deny the fact that we haven’t been good for each other in awhile. What I did – “ his voice breaks off. “- _What_ I did –I know I shouldn’t – is merely the catalyst for us to break up officially.”

But I love you. Jean wants to say, but he swallows the truth of his heart. He already knows what Eren would say against that having been down that road before. He hates himself for dragging this out like an idiot.

“That’s exactly what I came here to hear,” Jean hears himself say instead, bringing a finger to lightly scratch the side of his nose when he caught his hand from reaching his eyes. He lets out an inappropriate over-enthused breathe as if they are a weight off his shoulders. “We’ll both be happier without each other, probably,” he adds in false casualness.

Jean needs this conversation to end. He can already feel the pricking of salty tears behind his eyes. All the emotional turmoil and exhaustion is really getting to him. He needs to get out of here before he shows Eren how much he has fallen.

Fully intending to get out of here, Jean quickly turns away from Eren before he can catch the traces of tear welling in his eyes. “I'm gonna go now. Bye.”

With that, he rapidly head towards the door and he would have ran out if Eren didn't reach out to grab his forearm, fingers digging in hard enough to make sure that Jean can’t draw his arm back like he’s been burned by a hot stove. He hears Eren draws in breath before saying softly. “It’s late and you’re drunk. Let me send you back.”

“No,” he protests, adamantly avoid looking at him. “I’ll get a cab back. It’s fine.”

He pushes the door open clumsily and practically makes a run for the elevator, jabbing the button several time, willing for the lift to hurry the fuck up. When the elevator is here, he dashes in, barely managed to wipe the tears dripping from his eyes with his sleeves when he hears rapid footsteps running towards him.

Jean pushes the button desperately for the elevator to close the door, but Eren has apparently jammed his feet in between the doors just as they were about to close. Eren steps into the elevator with small sighs to catch his breathe. He’s still in his sleeping attire, but he is wearing shoes and carrying his car keys in his hands.

“Please let me send you back home,” Eren says quietly while breathing audibly though his nose, his eyes fixated on the lit screen beside the doors rather than on Jean. “You probably don't wanna see me right now, but I need to make sure you’re safe.”

Jean wants nothing more than to laugh and cry and hurl the bag at Eren’s face. How dare Eren put on a concern friend act after breaking Jean apart.

He peers at Eren from his red-rimmed eyes. “No,” he refuses adamantly.

It’s already taking all of Jean to stop his voice from quivering and he knows he wouldn't be able to keep the tears at bay for long. Crying in front of Eren again is something he will not do again if he can help it. Damn, can’t he even cry in peace now?

“I’ll get Connie to pick me up. I’ll be fine.”

Jean looks away when Eren turns to look at him. “Fine,” he acquiesces. “I'll wait for you until he gets here.” 

“No,” Jean forces his voice to be calm. “Just please leave me alone.”

The elevator door opens just then and Jean hastily speeds off without a sparing anything else in his surrounding a second glance. 


	4. Untitled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sit tight because your heart is about to break.

Fight. 

Old fashion punches and kicks.

Cutting words and ugly sneers. 

Those were all they had known before they learned to be gentle with each other. 

Before Jean came to find that as intense and annoying as Eren can be, he is also soft and comforting at all the right time. Before Eren realized that Jean is just a boy with an unhappy childhood hiding behind false bravado, trying to face the world head on because he knows better than to leave his heart out in the open. 

This is merely a regression.

All of Jean’s sadness has transformed into anger within a split of a second when he realized Eren is not fucking off like he has explicitly told him to. Eren is less than a footstep behind, stubbornly following Jean and completely disregarding Jean’s loud request to be alone, being completely cruel for not giving Jean respite and that makes Jean furious. 

This is absolutely the worst and surely rage is the only way out. It probably would be even better if Jean’s form of rage doesn't fall in the category of ‘rageful tears’ because that is what he is doing right now, screaming at Eren through the tears he couldn't keep from falling.

“Just fuck off. Stop following me or I’ll fucking punch your face in.”

“Stop walking away and let me send you home!”

Home? Jean wanted to laugh at Eren’s choice of word. Instead, he shouted:

“Keep on following me and I’ll kick your ass back home!”

Eren stubbornly ignores Jean threat of physical violence and keeps his pace close to Jean, waving his hand exasperatedly, trying to get Jean’s attention without touching him. 

“Will you be sensible?” He exclaims loudly, as if he’s trying too hard to get Jean to listen to him. His voice seems to fill the silence of the empty streets. “You’re very drunk and barely functioning!”

“Not true!” Jean yells back, quickly swiping a hand past his damp eyes. Just then he trips on his feet but no harm done there because he regained his footing soon after. Would a barely functioning drunk able to stop himself from tripping on his feet? At any rate, he is not drunk enough to let the biggest asshole and cheat in the world sending him back to wherever it is called. 

“Jean, come on!” Eren says pleadingly across his loud voice. “You can’t even walk straight. Besides, you would never drop by in the middle of the fucking night like this if you were sober.”

Jean takes offense immediately. “Are you calling me a coward? Fuck you!” 

“I don’t want you to be lying dead somewhere!”

Jean screams louder and stomps away faster, his fingers clasping tightly around the handle of that damn duffle bag. “So what if I was dead by tomorrow? It’s none of your business! It’s none of your business from ages ago! You said it!” 

Something seems to have snapped in Eren. He abruptly reaches out and grabs Jean harshly by his shoulders to reel him in, squeezing Jean’s bony shoulders desperately. Jean hisses and tries to pulls away. 

“’Drunk Radio DJ dead in a ditch’ – how does that sound, hmm?” Eren pretends to quote a headline in a mocking tone. “‘Cos that will be on the headline tomorrow. Is that what you want?”

Fuming more than he already is, Jean glares right into Eren’s seemingly wild eyes under the lights from the lampposts, his lips twists in a sneer. “What I want is for some peace and quiet without an asshole bothering me so for the last fucking time. Fuck off!”

“Oh believe me,” Eren shouts back, completely disregarding Jean’s words. “I am trying to fuck off.”

With all the strength Jean can muster in a moment, he roughly shoves Eren away and promptly swings the duffle bag in his face, stumbling a couple of steps forward by the momentum of the swing. Eren, having unanticipated for a bag being hurled towards his face, staggers backwards. 

“Then try harder you piece of shit,” Jean jeers in a whisper. He hasn't talked down to Eren like this in years. “It should be easy for you, isn’t it.”

Eren swiftly recovers and Jean catches a glimpse of a mean expression on his face before he jumps Jean. Both of them fall flat on the ground and tumble roughly for moments, shoving and pushing at each other, uncaringly allow their frustration to overtake their common senses. 

Jean’s movement is wild and evasive through the red haze. Eren is forceful and reactive. The close proximity between them is a raw and cutting but not at all violent until Jean raises his fist and throws the first punch at Eren’s face when he managed to get him on his back. 

Upon impact, Eren’s face twisted to the side where punch lands. Lips curling into a snarl, Eren growls and uses his upper body strength to push Jean down and slams him to the ground, effectively switching their positions just as Jean aims for another punch. 

He doesn't make any moves to return the punch Jean sent his face. Instead, he clenches the front of Jean’s shirt and glowers darkly at Jean, breathing harshly through his nose. Jean lets out incoherent sounds of frustration as he struggles to throw Eren off, beyond mad to utilize his limbs to push him off properly. 

Despite Jean’s struggles, Eren keeps Jean pin on the ground so he aims a sloppy kick to Eren’s side and pushes Eren’s face away clumsily with both of his hands. 

“Stop, Jean!” Eren grounds out. He cranes his neck as he allows his face to be pushed around. He doggedly has Jean in place by the fists on his shirt, only grabbing Jean’s wrists firmly when Jean has resorted to scratching his face.

With Jean’s wrists held tightly in his hands, Eren pushes them to the ground on the sides of his face. Trapped, Jean fights on, kicking and screaming, demands for Eren to let him go completely falls on deaf ears. 

Eventually, he tires and slowly ease to the ground, clenching eyes shut and holding his breath.

Holding his breath still, Jean sniffs calmly. “Go away.”

Jean feels Eren’s grip on his wrists loosen but the steady weight atop of him does not shift. When he opens he eyes once again, he sees the solemnness on Eren’s face, out of place with his glassy eyes. 

He doesn't feel the need to make any sense of this. 

They are quiet for moments, silently staring at each other, silently breathing in each other’s space. There is a sort of calmness from the calamity he has accumulated thus far. Then, a shiver passes through Jean. This bitter moment stretches on, seemingly. He inhales, he blinks, and a tear slips past his eyes and tickles down the side of his hairline. 

Just then, before Jean’s eyes, the hard edges of Eren’s face soften and his pair of green eyes shines just a spark dimmer. If heartbreak and guilt have an expression on him, Jean thinks, this is it. Eren squeezes Jean’s wrists once and part his mouth to say something and Jean’s mind is in a blank. The both of them are so wrapped up they missed the sound of footsteps approaching until flashes of light snap them out of it.

“Man, I got lucky! Eren Yeager acting out in public and I got it all on film!”

Surprised, they turn to the source of the harsh lights like deer caught in headlight and see a young man wearing a red hoodie holding a camera, looking all too pleased and amazed like he couldn't believe his luck.

In a trance, both Jean and Eren stay still on the ground until another series of flashes spurs Eren to spring up in defense.

“Hey, stop!” Eren demands with narrowed eyes. He holds up a hand at the camera, keeping his tone curt and firm. “Get out of here.”

The unwelcome intruder ignores and turns his camera on Jean who is slowly getting up from the ground. Eren immediately steps forward to shield Jean from the lens, preventing more pictures of him to be taken.

Said paparazzi chirps, undeterred. “Who is this, Eren? Mind telling me who is this dude you were all over?”

Eren raises his voice. “I said stop taking our pictures.”

“Don't be like that, Mr Yeager! I’m sure your fans would want to know!”

Recognizing that the paparazzi is most like not going to stop being invasive, Eren mutters an expletive and moves to cover Jean from the camera, helping him to stand up and then gently cover his head under his arm. 

Eren ushers Jean along the streets to where they came from. Softly, he says to Jean, “Come on, Jean, let’s go.”

“Going away? You forgot your bag!”

“Fuck this,” Eren mutters harshly and move quickly to pick up the duffle bag tossed aside during their little aggression, pointedly ignoring the camera flashes. He returns to Jean’s side in a jiff and carries on to lead Jean away from the paparazzi. 

Jean is well aware that he and Eren have been caught on pictures and he is still in shock. Never were they once caught together in pictures or videos throughout years of their relationship. His first reaction is to stay low and not drawing attention to himself, not wanting to give anything for the paparazzi to weave tales about. 

So he allows himself to be pulled away by Eren, turning away from the direction of the camera. They don't say anything else as they walk away from the paparazzi with their faces kept low. After snapping a few more pictures of the huddling together with annoying questions neither of them answers, the paparazzi left them to be with a loud goodbye with unnecessary cheer.

Soon, they are standing out password protected glass door to the condo premises, Eren hastily enters his password and guides Jean in. Jean, somehow still caught in a daze, follows wordless. The moment they approaches the elevator, Jean halts and pulls away from him. 

Eren looks over to Jean and releases a tired sigh. “Okay, I know. Let me drive you back,” he says.

“I’ll call a cab,” Jean refuses outright and again and makes a move to grab the duffle bag from Eren’s hands. Eren holds it away from Jean quickly at an arm’s length. 

He tells Jean seriously. “I’ll give this to you only if you let me drive you back.”

Jean throws Eren a withering look. “Keep it,” he says passively and turns around to walk away. 

“Hey, Jean,” Eren calls out, placing his hand on Jean’s shoulder to stop him from leaving. Jean shrugs it off and continues walking. Eren, not knowing how to quit, reaches out to grab Jean by the forearm.

Jean snaps, “Don’t touch me!”

“Fine, I won’t touch you.” Eren responses aptly and draws up a hand in surrender. 

Jean leaves the condo complex the second time in a night, knowing and ignoring the fact that Eren is following closely behind. 

“Look, let’s compromise,” Eren says in a measured tone of voice as he falls into steps besides Jean with a wide stride. “I’ll get into the cab with you. How about it?”

Jean can feel Eren eyes on him as he pointedly looks ahead, determine to ignore Eren once more. Eren cannot be seriously thinks that Jean would want to be in an enclosed space with him right now. He coolly informs Eren, “You are so fucking obnoxious I want to punch you all over again.”

Eren makes a frustrated noise and tousles his hair like he doesn't know how to deal with Jean. 

“Not good? Okay, final compromise. I’ll call a trustworthy cab for you.”

Ignoring Eren and a hundred sarcastic responses in his mind, Jean pulls up his phone from his jeans. Save for a resigned sigh, Eren says nothing as he stands besides Jean as he proceeds to book a cab over an app. Jean shoots Eren a glare when he realizes that Eren has been peering over his phone. Eren inches away slightly, looking completely unapologetic. 

7 minutes before the cab arrives, Uber says. Jean pockets his phone after the confirmation. 

“Don’t move while you’re waiting for your cab,” Eren instructs pointlessly while Jean continues to ignore him. 

With that, he leaves Jean’s duffle bag on the pedestrian ground by the street directly outside the condo where Jean is waiting for the cab to come. Jean tries not to feel ditched. There is no reason to feel ditched, he tells himself. 

The cab arrives in exactly 7 minutes. Jean climbs into the cab after dumping the duffle bag in the backseat. Minutes into the ride, the cab driver breaks the silence in the car.

“A really nice car has been following us,” he says. 

Puzzled, Jean turns his head and sees a red sports car through the window at the backseat, bright and very noticeable despite in the night. 

It is Eren’s car. A sour and bittersweet feeling grabs at his chest. It makes jean wants to cry and laugh at the same time and he does just that. He bends over and holds his head in his hands, blinking tears and sniffing again within minutes, his shoulder shaking as he laughs despite the heaviness in his chest.

“Kid, you alright?” The cab driver asks in concern. 

“I’m alright.” Jean says. “I’m alright.”

By the time the cab pulls outside his new apartment complex, Jean has dried his tears. He sees Eren’s car – he tries not to look, he did, but his eyes flickers over – stopping a short distance behind the cab on the quiet, empty streets and feels hollow and warm all at once. 

When cab drives off, Jean does not enter the complex immediately. He stares at the unmoving bright vehicle across a distance. Moments later, his shoulders slumps and he decides to get in his apartment. 

Just as he enters the complex, he hears the low hum of a vehicle driving away. 

-

The following day, Jean wakes up and feel empty, for some reasons. It's a strange feeling, to feel calmness after weeks of complicated feelings whirling through his chest. Not putting much thoughts into it, Jean went to work, contributed as many ideas as he could think of at a meeting. When it's break time, Jean goes to the staff pantry to make himself some coffee. Later, Hanji spots him making coffee in the staff longue and immediately latches on to him. 

“Hello, Jean,” Hanji greets with a board smile in a tune. Jean merely looks at her with a listless expression and mumbles a small ‘hello.’

“Say, I didn't know you know Eren Jeager! I can’t believe you've never told me!”

Jean pauses in the midst of stirring his cup. Not expecting a question like that, Jean goes still as his mind races. Gone are his wits.

“What? I don’t - ”

Hanji does not buy his ongoing act of plain confusion. They simply cross their arms and squints behind their glasses. 

Jean sighs and turns his attention back to stirring his cup. Softly, he says, “We just went to school together, that’s all.”

“Yeah, but when did the two of you make the transition from schoolmates to lovers?”

It’s irksome, for someone else to talk about Eren and him right after all the shitstorm, especially when they know nothing about them. The irritation comes through in a sharp spike and Jean snaps before he realizes. 

“Fuck off! Don’t talk about him. It’s none of your business so just stop asking questions and leave it alone!”

Hanji looks incredulous, mouth falling into a round ‘o’. “Err alright. Okay. Whatever happened seems serious. Oh, I’m over prying as your colleague. Just ignore me.”

“Sorry,” Jean mumbled, feeling like a total asshole. "I don't know what came over me." Hanji is just being their usual self and doesn't deserve to be yelled at because Eren is a douche. 

“No worries at all,” Hanji assures easily. They turn around and leans their back to the pantry counter. “Just chill. Come back to the meeting room whenever you’re ready so we can carry on with our discussion for next week’s show.”

“Right. Thanks.”

After Hanji leaves the pantry, Jean moves to the brightly colored lime table by the glass window panel that separates the staff longue and working space. Dull pounding immediately starts pulsing in his head in a steady rhyme - thud, thud, thud. 

Resting his mug on the table, Jean drags a chair out and sits down restlessly. He lets out a loud sigh because he knows no one is in the room to hear it. The echo of the past just wouldn't stop resounding in his mind. He just can’t catch a break. There are pictures of him and Eren spreading on the internet, probably. It isn’t a big deal, Jean tells himself, another gossip will soon takeover the internet by storm and it’ll be as if those pictures never happened. 

Jean hasn't looked at the pictures Hanji mentioned yet, and he doesn't want to. This world is ridiculous, Jean thinks as a sour smile curls at the corner of his lips. Years of being with Eren and no one catches a whiff about them. Also, to make the matter worse, of all the days he could be caught in picture with Eren, it had to be the day when he was drunk and crying like a little baby. 

Seriously. What a headache inducing mess. 

“Jean…” 

It was Hanji who’s standing by the entrance of the pantry, wearing a tentative and wary expression. “Someone’s looking for you.”

Now Jean's wary. “Who?” 

“Not sure if you know him but he’s my best friend and also the manager of you know who.”

“Shitty glasses, just cut the crap and let me talk to him.”

A very irritable man reveals himself from Hanji's figure. Jean notices that he was completely covered by Hanji’s body earlier. Despite his decidedly small status, questionable thin eyebrows and a hard, mean expression plastered on his face, this man is emitting signals that says he is not to be trifled with. 

It just so happens that Jean’s ability to give a fuck about his self preservation doesn't seem to be working right now.

“No, I’m not interested in talking with anyone related to Yeager.”

Besides a subtle raise in eyebrow – not that Jean notices because he very pointedly turned away and slowly takes a sip of his coffee – Levi doesn’t really give off any warning for what he is about to do.


	5. Inflation and deflation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NDA so nothing has ever happened.
> 
> \----  
> So, I don't know if anyone's still reading this. Continuing this chapter is a spur of the moment thing while searching distractions from NANO. I have up the warnings so, take heed!

The grey shadows on Levi’s face really complement the way he scowls. 

Everything about him, save his height, transmit threat. He seems the kind of man that women will hide their purse and babies from on the street. Jean, being emotionally dead and gone, is unmoved.

 “Jean, is it?” Levi says as he walks pass Hanji and towards Jean, holding a shiny black briefcase in his hand. He wears a black suit with matching black shoes that look just as shiny as his briefcase. Jean is having trouble deciding if he’s a businessman with a particularly stern disposition or someone who’s involved in the mafia.

Jean thinks he might be both, and doesn’t answer him.

Stopping right in front of Jean, he continues speaking, “Following the scandal that entered spotlight just last night – the very same one that has broken at least half the internet, there are a few matters in which I would require your corporation in.”

Levi sounded so vague and pushy at the same time it should make Jean angry but Jean doesn't feel like responding at all, so he says nothing and takes a sip of his hot coffee again. His cup is then roughly snatched out of his hand by the rim and slammed onto the table in front of him. The heat of the spilled coffee over his fingers has barely registered before he is pulled up from his chair by the arm.

It is absurd how he is being manhandled by someone much shorter than him.

Before he can say something like, _“Hey man, what the fuck?”_ that nicely summarise his entire meeting with a tiny and mean looking stranger, said stranger, hisses, “Listen, thanks to the little stunt that brat pulled last night, I haven’t slept since the media blows my phone up asking for statements. I’m mad as hell.

Now, choose – you can either march to an empty meeting room where we can have a chat without anyone listening in, or I can knock you out and drag your unconscious body out of this building with a paper bag over your head.”

Jean stares, wide eyes, mouth falling open caught in between a huff of disbelief and offense. He tries to yank his arm away from Levi, exclaiming, “Go fuck yourself.”

  
Levi’s hand tightens on Jean, and he winces under the unexpected pressure. 

_“Fuck!”_

“Levi, unhand my co-worker,” Hanji interjects, holding out their hand in a placating manner. They try a smile, looking awkward as hell. “There is no need for threats and violence although I know it’s killing you not to set everyone on fire with your eyes.”

When Levi says nothing except to stare down at Jean, Hanji tries once more, “Just _chill_ , man.”

Levi begrudgingly shoots a dark look at Hanji, then back and Jean, who is increasingly agitated. Levi sighs through his nose, and when he finally releases Jean’s arm, Jean takes a few steps away quickly.

He sneers at Levi, “Who are the fuck are you? Don’t remember owning money to loan sharks, and if Yeager did, go fuck him over instead. 

Levi releases yet another sigh through his nose as if he is willing for patience to deal with Jean.

“Well?” Levi asks as if he hadn’t heard Jean. He crosses his arms menacingly, glaring up at Jean from the dark shadow in his eyes. He truly looks like a man who hasn’t slept well in a week, and Jean does not give a fuck. “Made your choice?”

Jean leaves his cup of spilled coffee on the table and walks away, but not before flipping him off.

Levi drags him kicking and screaming to an empty conference room.

-

“I’m not afraid of you,” Jean tells Levi as he slams the door at Hanji’s face and pulls down the privacy screen. Jean is staring at the curious eyes of his co-workers all the way until the rolling screen separates them.

“Whoever the fuck you are, you don’t have a right to act like you own this station,” Jean says, standing at the corner of the room where Levi left him, arms crossed, shoulders tensed.

Levi, on the other hand, is at ease. He sits on the chair at the head of the table and opens his suitcase, pulling out a document and a slick pen.

“As a matter of fact, I do have a certain right. If 108FM ever wants an interview with Eren Yeager,” Levi smiles, and it isn’t a nice smile, “I have a right to make sure things go a certain way.” 

Jean pales, and he swears his heart stops.

He tells himself to breathe, and not panic in front of this short, scary douche who’s watching him closely for a reaction. As long as Jean isn’t the one who interviews Eren, as long as Jean doesn’t have to see him again, he couldn’t care less what Eren does.

“I’m Levi Ackerman,” Levi introduces himself almost politely. It was minutes too late, and Jean doesn’t buy it for a second. If Levi stretches his hand out for Jean to shake, Jean is going to ignore it. Levi doesn’t. 

Jean narrows his eyes as Levi gestures him to take a seat, and when all Jean does is glare, Levi shrugs.

“I’m Eren’s manager,” he says. “I manage him and his band. He doesn’t take a piss without telling me.” 

Jean sneers at Levi’s crude remark. Jean doesn’t break his own heart by giving in to a retort, _“So he doesn’t cheat on me without telling you too? Did he tell you about me before last night happened?”_

Besides, it really only goes to show how little Jean knows about Eren’s other life that he didn’t know Levi. By now, it feels like everything else he doesn’t know about Eren is an after-fact clearer in hindsight.

“What do you want?” His voice is brittle than he would like.

“To talk to you.”

Jean huffs and smirks. It’s a bitter, reactive one. “Damage control, I presume. You know what? I want nothing to do with Eren Yeager and his dirty, cheating ways so” - Jean crosses the distance and slides the document over the table – “I’ll sign whatever non-disclosure agreement I have to.” 

Jean picks up the pen and flips to end of the stapled document without even skimming through the content, signs his name on the dotted line, and tosses the papers back to Levi.

Levi, who has been silently watching as Jean scribbles his name on the paper with more force than necessary, flicks his eyes away and down onto the paper. He looks up at Jean, bringing his laced fingers to the table. “You’re a smart one, Jean Kirstein.”

The backhanded praise makes Jean clenches his fists. “Fuck you. Is this over now? Good.” He turns around to storm out of the room, but Levi carries speaking.

“This is less work than I thought. Wouldn’t have guessed that you’d yield so easily from how resistant you were.”

Jean spins around. His voice is as cruel and cold as the smile he puts on his face as he tells a lie that means to hurt the person who isn’t around. “Eren Yeager is just not worth the trouble. He sucks. Tell him we’re done and I don’t want to see him again.”

“Will do,” Levi says.  Jean stands there for a moment, watching Levi as he gathers the paper and pen back into his briefcase, feeling almost disappointed. When Levi is done, he looks up at Jean, raising a thin eyebrow.

“Tell me one thing,” Jean says quietly. He should stop himself, but his mouth runs. “Did you go to every single person Eren slept with and demand them to sign the very same papers I just signed?” 

Levi’s smirk is one that belittles. “No,” he says, and Jean’s heart inflates. “They’re different papers.” Levi walks over to Jean. “You were his long-term boyfriend. The things you need to keep your mouth about are different from the things that one boy Eren screwed three months ago now that things have gone south.”

“One?” Jean asks, shaking his head with a bitter laugh, “You sure it’s only one? Thought he doesn’t even piss without you knowing?”

The thin line on Levi’s mouth is hard, lacking humor. “As far as I know, it has only been the same one.”

There it is. The sound of Jean’s heartbreaking into smaller pieces.

 _The same one._  

It isn’t even a one-time thing with a stranger that Jean has walked-in on. It is the same person Eren has been cheating on Jean with. Jean swallows tightly, clutching his jaws, refusing to show any weakness in front of Levi. 

Levi steps pass and open the door. 

“Hi, Levi!” Jean hears Hanji’s voice saying. Jean doesn’t turn around.

“Just making sure everything is okay,” Hanji says. 

“Hmm. Everything’s peachy. What do you want?”

“Oh come on, you know what I want.”

Jean exhales a quiet breath and wipes his face. He needs to be alone right now. He squeezes pass Levi and Hanji and exits the room, avoiding eye contact with anyone else that comes his way.

-

At night, when Jean is all alone in his apartment, a message came. 

It’s from Marco.

Jean doesn’t want to read the message from Marco. A sort of bad feeling squeezes at his chest the same way it does whenever he sees Marco after that one, horrid night that is no one's fault. Still, Jean sees the preview of the message on his phone. It reads: _“Hey, Jean! I'm sorry. I heard about what happened with –“_

Flipping the phone over, Jean throws his arms over his eyes.

“Fuck.”


End file.
